Please Fasten Your Safety Belts

So I was running to the cockpit this morning (did I tell you I was a pilot?) and the oddest series of events occurred. Mind you, I'm not usually one of those "the oddest thing happened on the way to work" sort of guys. In this case though, I'm certain its worth telling. So anyway, I boarded the plane and headed right to the cockpit, not really paying any attention to what people were saying to me. I was reaching for the cockpit door when I realized something very important. I am not a pilot (probably why I never told you I was). As I turned to the flight attendant who was wielding a tray of under-cooked food like a weapon, I because painfully aware of this fact.

She managed to hit me hard enough to knock me off my feet. Honestly, I'm still tasting soggy carrots and old fish. Moments later I was flipped over, handcuffed (not with real handcuffs, but one of those plastic zip ties). I have to admit those air marshal guys are seriously getting cheap. Not that I don't appreciate the occasional slam to the ground and zip tie, but it just seems that if you are going to protect the life of 100+ passengers, you'd spring for something made of a slightly more durable material. I digress.

The real point was how I wound up in this very odd situation. You see, for the moment I was absolutely convinced that I belonged in that cockpit. It was only when reaching for the door and the incident with the tray ninja that righted my mind. Not 20 minutes earlier I had been enjoying a sandwich at a local Denny's. Seeing that it was Denny's the food seemed to shoot straight through me, sending me screaming toward the restroom at a pace that I can only describe as somewhere between dire and desperate.

As I approached the restroom at my seriously overclocked pace, and flung the door forward I felt resistance. By that I mean my body continued forward, and the door did not. I hit the door with some force. So much force in fact that all of my clothes flew off my body in quite a ridiculous fashion. Unfortunately, the same happened to a poor gentleman on the other side of the door.

Fortunately (or really most unfortunately as the day would show), a waitress happened by and found us lying nearly naked on the floor (I was spared the embarrassment of losing my clinging white personal privacy shield). Being thoroughly embarrassed herself, she ignored the signs of what clothes belonged to whom, and began dressing us. I wound up with a nice navy jacket, and pilots cap, while the other gent ended up with jeans and over-sized sweater with a giant picture of Beavis (of the Beavis and Butt-Head fame).

Had he been awake for any of this he might have pointed out the issue. I on the other hand, was very much awake, but very confused. I walked to the mirror to compose myself, looked, and had no idea why I was dressed like a pilot. I reached into my coat pocket and found a little note about the flight I was supposed to be captaining. Crap. It was only 18 minutes out. So, I did what any good pilot would do, I grabbed a beer at the bar, and ran like a maniac to the airport.

I dashed past security, beer in hand screaming all the way that I was certain I didn't remember how to fly, but I was damn sure not going to let that keep me from safely delivering my passengers to Canada. I'm almost completely positive that the airport security was following me after that. By almost certain I mean I didn't bother turning around (since I might lose precious minutes), but I did hear some shouts of things like "stop or we will shoot you" and "sir, we need to see your papers!"

I ran to the gate next. The flight attendant there didn't even give me a second look. Just looked at the cap, nodded, and smiled as I ran past. I barreled over a flight attendant as I crossed the threshold of the plane. I think she started to say "sir, can I see your boarding..."

"Blah, blah, blah. I'm the pilot, get out of my way stewie." (or maybe its "flightie" or "attendie" now that we are a more politically correct society).

Fast forward to the tray into face and voila. Suddenly, from behind a taser shot, an uncomfortable feeling all over my everything, a knee to the back, and the zip tie. I knew at that moment this dream of being a pilot was not a reality.

I turned and asked with something of a slur (mostly because half my face was pressed into the floor), "How did you know I wasn't a pilot?"

The air marshal raised an eyebrow, got real close to my face and said "No pants."

I knew I forgot something. I guess next time I should just slow down and pay attention. Needless to say I've been asked not to be a guest at the airport anymore.